We
by Paradox.bookjunkie
Summary: A Dramione Oneshot for a Dramione Prompt Challenge My Prompt was Undone


**So, another oneshot. **

**I PROMISE I'll update Breaking through the Glass and Ashes to ashes soon. **

**Key word: soon.**

**Anyway, this is set in a seventh year of Hogwarts. Hermione and Draco are both prefects, therefore must live in the Prefect's Quarters, kind of like a miniature House Dormitory, but, you know, with two people. Also, for some reason only they are in this "Prefect's Quarters"…? Yeah…I just wrote it that way, it's gonna stay that way.**

**May turn this into something larger…**

**I don't know.**

**I hope you like it and tell me if you do, or all this work'll be for naught.**

**Written for the **_**Dramione Prompt Challenge**_** with the prompt 'undone'.**

**I guess I took it the way as in coming undone..?**

_******A/N everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's.**_

"Malfoy?" Hermione knocked on the large door that led into his room. He should have been at least two hours ago, when she had been. He always got up before she did. When there was no answer, she went in. Surprised, she looked around. Everything was neat and tidy; even cleaner than hers! She ran a hand along his dresser, as she wandered across the room. Whereas her room had pictures of her family, friends and pets, his would have posters and pictures, except for a single, simply framed picture. She picked it up. It was a picture of a younger, smiling version of Malfoy along with his mother. He was grinning widely at who ever held the camera, waving and laughing. There was a gap where one of his front teeth should have been.

His mother took turns smiling at the camera and then down at Malfoy, affection as plain as day in her pale face. Every now and then, she'd lean down and whisper something to Malfoy in his ear, which would cause him to look up at her at laugh, pure joy softening his sharp features. She placed the picture gently back on the dresser and left, wondering where in the world Malfoy could be. She was gently closing the door when a voice came from behind her.

"Granger?" She turned around. There stood Malfoy, his pale hair plastered to his face, holding a towel in his hand. "Granger, what the hell were you doing in my room?" He asked sharply, throwing the towel behind him, frowning. The towel sunk into the floor, on its way to the house elves in the basement for washing. She looked at him in surprise, wondering at his tone. "I was just looking for-"

"I don't care what you were looking for!" he snapped. "You don't just go through other people's things! What if I'd have been in there?" He asked.

"Then I would've found what-or who- I was looking for, wouldn't I have?" She retorted hotly, hands balling into fist at her sides. "Yeah, Malfoy! I was trying to make sure you were okay! Who knows what some of the people here want to do to you, with the amount of hate mail you get!" She shivered at the thought. Malfoy just stood there.

"Why do you care, Granger?" He asked sullenly, glaring quite fixedly at the blue curtains covering the window behind her. She could hear them swishing, swaying gently in the breeze behind her. She focused on the soothing sound for a few seconds before replying. "You know, you are _such_ a prat! What happened to us actually trying to tolerate each other?" Malfoy sighed, all anger going out of his expression. It left him looking wasted, empty, and it brought out his white pallor, which was even paler than normal. There were heavy purple bags under his eyes. "I don't know, Granger." With that, he strode across the room into his bedroom, in front of which she was currently standing and, breezing past her, he shut the door quietly in her face. Hermione walked across their shared Common Room to one of the large, plushy chairs and sank into it, burrowing her face in a pillow.

Eventually, she must have fallen asleep, because when she looked up again, the sky was darkening, and the windows shut. There was a blanket covering her. She didn't stir, just lifted her lashes a bit so she could see, in case Malfoy was in the room. He was.

His silhouette was outlined against the newly made fire. He clutched a piece of white parchment in a white knuckled fist. His shoulders were shaking. Wait. Shaking? Was Malfoy _crying_? Hermione sat up slowly, hugging the soft blanket around her shoulders. If he heard her, he didn't acknowledge her. She walked up to him, placing a hand on his white clothed shoulder, which shook violently beneath it with the silent sobs that were racking his body. "Malfoy?" She murmured. "Malfoy, what's wrong?" She tried to turn him towards her, but he jerked out of reach. "Sod off, granger," He said halfheartedly. He'd stopped crying, wiping his face. He turned away from her, a fine curtain of his silvery blonde locks hiding his features. She gently took hold of the corner of the letter closest to her and gave a little tug. She was met with no resistance, though. The parchment was rough and thick in her palms.

_Draco,_ (it read)

Your mother and I were very sorry that you chose to return to Hogwarts against our wishes. We have always only held your best interests in mind. We acknowledge that you are now seventeen and now must choose your own path, but would like to notify you of a rather important matter.

We have decided to move into a Muggle community, severing our ties with the wizarding world. This is a very hard thing for us to do, as you know, Draco. We fear that we, and the name of Malfoy, are no longer welcome here. I sent this letter to remind you that, though Malfoy manor will be given to you and your mother when I die, as is your right, you would have to find your own means of accommodation until that time comes. This letter is also an invitation to live with us. Please send a response as soon as possible.

Your father,

Lucius Malfoy

Hermione, appalled, let the letter drop to her feet. Was Lucius Malfoy such a reserved father that he'd leave his own flesh and blood on the streets of London to fend for himself. No wonder Malfoy had been acting like such a prat! She turned to Malfoy, looking up at him from where she crouched, leaning on his armrest. "What is your father?" she asked. "Is he some kind of machine or something because I really think-" her words were cut off as his lips met hers. He cupped one side of her face with his thin fingers and slowly pulled away. He leaned his forehead into hers, closing his eyes. Then he brought his face close to hers, just close enough that they weren't touching, but if Hermione titled her chin up, her lips would meet his. As she did this, Malfoy grinned against her lips, and pulled her into his lap. Her hand slipped over his shirt, grabbing it in bunches. His hands were everywhere, but as he pulled away, they grasped her hand, as he grinned mischievously down at her. He landed a peck on her lips again. "Come on," He said, and pulled her with him into his bedroom.

A few hours later, they were sitting on his bed. "I just can't believe your father would do that." Hermione said, staring at the white ceiling above her. "I can't either," Draco murmured as Hermione curled up against him. She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, smiling inwardly as his breath hitched. "We'll figure this out." She breathed against his chest. He grinned down at her. "I like that." He said.

"What?" She asked. He pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair.

"We."


End file.
